


The One With The 80s Diner

by random_writer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, First Kiss, M/M, Murder Mystery, My First Fanfic, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:15:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9163741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/random_writer/pseuds/random_writer
Summary: Two healthy young women die from suspicious heart-attacks, and Team Free Will travel to St. Louis to investigate. What they believe to be a simple salt-and-burn case turns into something even more sinister as they uncover dark secrets and realize that things are not always as they seem... and that sometimes people can surprise you.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. 
> 
> This work is unbeta'd. Any mistakes are my own. 
> 
> Feedback is welcome!

"Get this..." Sam said as he folded his lanky body into the chair opposite Dean. "A small town near St. Louis has reported two unusual deaths in the last twenty-four hours."

  
Dean looked up sceptically from his newspaper, his hair messy and his body relaxed after a welcome eight hours of sleep. It was on mornings like these that Dean was grateful for the chain of events which had led them to the Men of Letters Bunker. For the first time since Mum died he and his brother had a space to call their own, and it made all the difference in the world.

  
"So?" Dean shrugged as he took a sip of coffee and picked lazily at his toast. Sam was visibly taken aback by his brother’s lack of enthusiasm.

  
"So," Sam repeated, pausing to ensure that Dean was paying attention. "One witness swears they saw the two dead people walking around town hours after their bodies were found."

  
"Kids will say anything to be on the news." Dean grumbled, rubbing one hand over his face and through his thick, sandy blonde hair before getting to his feet. He tossed the newspaper on the central table and picked up his favourite, currently empty, ‘I can’t wait for the zombie apocalypse’ mug. "Coffee?"

  
"I don't want coffee. I want you to pay attention when I tell you that we have a case." Sam huffed.

  
"Why are you so keen to get back to work? We just got back from hunting that shapeshifter in Miami." Dean grimaced at the memory of the leathery skin left behind from those sunburned monster tourists. That stuff was nasty.

  
"Dean, are you being intentionally difficult, or are you just thick?" Sam said, his voice lowering to a whisper. Dean could hear the sound of daytime television blaring somewhere in the bunker. Was that Dr Phil?

  
"What the hell are you on about, Sammy?"

  
"Cas." Sam said, as if the angels name somehow explained everything.

  
Dean shrugged and motioned for his brother to elaborate. 

  
Sam almost laughed at Dean’s blatant denial. "Don't you think he's been a bit... different since The Fall?"

  
"He's not the most stable guy, Sammy."

  
"He's been watching Dr Phil reruns for three hours."

  
"So what? He deserves a break. More importantly, why has Dr Phil been running for three hours?"

  
"It's mental health awareness week." Sam said, the irony of his brother’s complete lack of awareness was not lost on him.

  
"You're just being paranoid, Sammy. The guy’s fine and I'll prove it. Cas!" Dean called as he strolled down the hallway towards Castiel’s room. It was easy enough to find since it was situated directly beside his own.

  
Dean remembered the flash of excitement and intense gratitude on the angles face when he had told Cas that he could stay with them in the bunker. The angel had immediately chosen the room beside Dean’s, even though there were many, more secluded, rooms he could have selected. Something warm welled up in Dean’s chest with the memory. He buried the unwelcome feeling.

"Cas,” Dean began as he swung open the door. He immediately regretted not knocking.

“Sam was just saying... Ah." Dean trailed off.

Castiel, Angel of the Lord and general badass, was curled up on a single bed in a cocoon of blankets and pillows. The room was dark except for the blue light shining from the television screen. He looked vulnerable, like a kitten. His back was up against the wall in an obvious defensive manoeuvre, his pale face glowing from the light of the TV. 

  
Cas squinted into the harsh light from the hallway as his eyes adjusted to see the distinctive outlines of Sam and Dean Winchester.

  
"Yes, Dean?" Cas prompted, unravelling himself from the safety and warmth of his blanket nest to turn off the television. He found his feet and tilted his head slightly to the left as if to listen all the more intently to what Dean had to say. The room felt far too quiet without the soothing tones of Dr. Phil to fill it.

  
Dean was momentarily speechless, a slight frown creasing his forehead as he studied the man wearing his old, worn AC/DC tee and a pair of grey sweatpants which had been rolled up because they were too long. His lean but powerful body was hidden underneath the loose layers of old clothes. He had never seen Cas look quite so... pathetic. How had he missed this obvious cry for help?

  
"Ah… Sam was just saying that he thinks he's found us a case." Dean swore he could feel Sam smirking behind him. His little brother loved being right. Sam wouldn’t let him forget this one for a while. “Pack your things, I want to be on the road by lunch.”


	2. Chapter 2

“Welcome to the All-Night, All-Right Diner. My name is Lana, what can I get you, gentlemen?” A young waitress asked with a genuine smile. Her makeup was immaculate, except for a small patch around her left eye, and her uniform ironed and clean. Sam, who was easily the most emotionally intelligent of the group, wondered if her grief was taking the form of obsessive-compulsive behaviour. Two of her co-workers had just been murdered, it wouldn’t be unusual. 

“I’ll grab a slice of pie and a Coke.” Dean said with a flirtatious smile. He winked at the waitress and handed her the slightly sticky, laminated menu. 

“Any particular flavour?” 

“Surprise me.” 

“I’ll have the Cesar salad and a bottle of water. Cas?” Sam asked the angel, who had been suspiciously silent during the long drive to St. Louis. 

“It’s all just molecules to me.” Cas shrugged, his gaze frozen on something through the window outside. He shifted uncomfortably in the red, leather bound booth, accidentally brushing against Dean’s knee in the process. He apologised under his breath before turning his head back to the window. 

Lana was unperturbed by Cas’ unusual response and left to fill their order. 

Dean frowned at the back of the angels head before turning his gaze on the room. The All-Night, All-Right Diner was a classic 80’s diner. Homey and sweet with scattered posters of Elvis and polished muscle cars on the walls. 

“Remind me again why this dump has something to do with the two dead girls?” Dean asked as he leaned back and stretched his arms along the back of the booth seat. His fingers brushed against Cas’ warm neck when he turned to join the conversation, causing both men to jump slightly. Dean shuffled in his seat and placed his hands safely in his lap where they could be trusted not to wander. 

“The two dead women were Louise and Harriet, both were working the night shift here before their deaths. Louise dropped Harriet home before driving to her apartment across town. Both were found dead the next morning in their bedrooms. Doors and windows locked.” Sam recapped, unable to suppress a slight eye-roll at the uncomfortable tension between Dean and Cas. This was getting ridiculous. “But some of the staff swear they saw both Harriet and Louise in the diner the day after their deaths.” 

“Sounds like restless spirits.” Cas offered straight-faced as the waitress returned with a generous slice of pie and a heaped serving of Cesar salad. Lana, to the boy’s surprise, slipped casually into the empty space beside Sam. 

“Ah, can we help you?” Dean asked sarcastically. Lana responded by leaning back into the booth and crossing her arms over her chest. 

“You and your friends need to work on subtlety.” Lana said with a smirk. “It’s pretty obvious that the three of you are here because of Harriet and Louise, so let’s cut the crap. Are you cops?”

“We are with the FBI.” Sam said smoothly and offered Lana his badge. She squinted at the plastic with a healthy level of suspicion before nodding and leaning back into the red leather. 

“Alright. I’m inclined to believe you. What do you want to know?” Lana put on a mask of icy toughness, but Sam was beginning to see the cracks in her shield. She was afraid. 

“When was the last time you saw Harriet and Louise?” Dean asked. 

“Before or after they died?” Sam and Dean shared a look of surprise. 

“You have seen them since their deaths?” Cas asked in his usual monotone, though there was a hint of interest at this new development. It was a nice change to the icy wall of silence he had been offering Sam and Dean all morning. 

“Only Louise. Harriet and I didn’t really get along, so I doubt she would make the effort to visit me from beyond the grave.” Lana said nonchalantly. 

Dean laughed before replying. “So, you don’t find it at all unusual that you are being visited by your co-workers ghost?” 

Lana shrugged again, but her mask was beginning to falter. Her bottom lip trembled with emotion. “Louise was the best manager I could ever have asked for. She hired me when I was at my worst. She knew if I didn’t get work I would end up on the street. I can’t believe she is dead. It’s hard to process… Especially after seeing her ghost.” 

“What about Harriet?” Sam asked. 

Lana visibly tensed. She took a deep, calming breath before continuing. “Harriet was a cruel, greedy woman. She married the owner of the diner, Karl Willow, and was always trying to convince him to sell. The diner does pretty well for itself, but Harriet had bigger plans for this piece of real estate. She wanted to open a restaurant. Like a proper, five star, fine dining snob-fest.” 

Lana grimaced and shook her head. “Karl didn’t want that. None of us did, and it made her miserable. She couldn’t have what she wanted, so she took it out on the staff.”

Sam passed Lana a napkin as her shining hazel eyes overflowed with tears. “I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I haven’t seen Karl, and the rest of the staff are terrified of losing their jobs. I don’t know what to do, I’m practically running the place.”

“It’s alright, Lana. We are going to find out what is happening here.” Sam offered, patting the young woman’s hand comfortingly. “You said you saw Louise after she died. What happened?” 

“Well,” Lana sniffed. “I was out back in the storage room when the lights started to flicker and everything went cold. Then she just, appeared. She was standing behind me in her work uniform sort of, smiling. She reached for this old flour tin before she vanished. I looked inside and found this.” Lana reached into her pocket and placed a small wooden box on the table. 

Dean, curious as always, was the first to reach for the box and check what was inside. 

“Nice bling.” Dean commented as he poked through glittering earrings and necklaces. He wasn’t an expert, but he was pretty confident those weren’t plastic rocks. “Somebody was a very practiced pick-pocketer.” 

Cas shifted closer, brushing up against Dean’s side to take a closer look. Dean tensed, but didn’t move away. He wasn’t sure why his friends proximity made him feel so… edgy. 

“These are all very valuable items. Diamonds, emeralds, pearls.” Cas said as he brushed his fingers over the jewellery. 

“The police said Louise and Harriet died of heart attacks. So, why are the FBI investigating? You don’t think Louise and Harriet were killed, do you?” Lana asked, her tone fearful. Sam nodded in response. 

“It’s possible. Lana, would you mind giving us the address of the owner, Karl Willow?” Lana nodded, pulled a pen from behind her ear and began jotting down an address on her tear-stained napkin. 

“Here.” 

“Thanks. Lana, don’t hesitate to call us if anything happens or if you see Harriet or Louise again.” Sam said as he handed the young woman his business card. 

“Thank you, Detectives.” Lana said as she scrubbed her face with her forearm, composed herself in a manner of seconds and got back to work. The girl deserved an Oscar for her acting ability. 

“What are you thinking?” Dean asked Sam, very aware that Cas was yet to shift back to his side of the bench. The angel radiated warmth against Dean’s left side. 

“I think we should go and have a talk with Karl Willow.”


	3. Chapter 3

There was a slight change of plans. On the way to Karl Willow’s house, Cas made the frustratingly valid point that all three of them were not required to interrogate one diner owner. So, instead of getting to frighten a potential killer, Dean was given the thrilling job of looking at corpses. He was not pleased.

 

“Strange, isn’t it?” The coroner; a tall, skinny man with round Harry Potter glasses and a slight limp, said curiously as the three of them stood over the first corpse. Louise Jameson was a 25 year-old African woman with long black hair and brown eyes. She was the image of health, until she dropped dead of what the coroner could only describe as a spontaneous heart-attack.

 

On the table parallel to Louise lay Harriet; a plump 30 year-old Caucasian woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. She had died in exactly the same manner. Louise was post-autopsy with thick purple scars set in a Y along her torso, while Harriet was yet to be cut. Both were covered modestly with a white hospital sheet.

 

“For two such beautiful young women to drop dead like this, it’s a tragedy.” The coroner said softly, his head bowed respectfully as he tucked a strand of Harriet’s platinum blonde hair back into position behind her ear.   

 

“Yes, uh, can you give us a moment?” Dean asked, to which the skinny man bowed, turned on his heel and left without a word. _What an oddball_ , Dean thought before turning to face Cas – who was much closer than he had been expecting. So close, in fact, that Dean could clearly see a scattering of golden freckles across the angel’s nose and cheekbones.

 

“Man, what is it with you and personal space?” Dean asked as he took a cautionary step backwards. He didn’t trust his body’s reactions that close to the angel.

 

“My apologies, Dean. The intricacies of human behaviour remain mysterious to me.” Castiel’s voice was flat, completely devoid of emotion.

 

“Alright, Shakespeare. What vibe are you getting from the dead girls?”

 

“No traces of sulphur or EMF present. There is, however, a slight hint of…” Can paused to sniff the first corpse like a dog sniffs for a bone. “Camomile and rosemary.” He moved over to the second corpse and repeated the gesture. “The herbs are present on both women.”

 

“Well that’s great.” Dean scoffed sarcastically. “They probably shared a cup of tea before they died.”

 

“Dean, you once told me that no detail was too small.” Cas said tersely, waving his arms over the two dead women on either side of him. The angel was in a foul mood today. “For all we know, this could be the detail which cracks the case.”

 

“I highly doubt it.” Dean said. He was about to continue mocking the angel when he was interrupted.  

 

“Sir, you can’t be in here.” Castiel commanded. There was a huge difference between Cas the lovably, goofy angel and Castiel, Angel of the Lord and mighty sword of God’s will. The angel was talking to someone directly behind Dean, but he couldn’t remember hearing anyone come through the doors. The hinges had a very distinctive squeak to them which Dean doubted he would have missed.

 

“I’m sorry.” The man said, grief thick in his voice as he emerged from behind Dean and approached the corpse of Harriet. Dean recognised him instantly from the All-Night, All-Right Diner webpage.

 

“You’re Karl Willow.” Dean said, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. This was interesting. Perhaps he would get a chance to interrogate the owner after all.

 

“I’m so, so sorry.” Karl sobbed, his hands hovering over his dead wife Harriet like he was afraid to touch her. His head was bowed like a relentless weight was forcing him towards the smoothly tiled floor of the morgue.

 

“Are you okay?” Dean questioned the intruder, then jumped when he felt a warm hand grip him tightly at the elbow. He could feel Cas standing uncomfortably close behind him. Could feel the iconic trench brushing against his back and the angel’s breath fanning his right ear. He had to fight the urge to lean back into the man’s comforting warmth. Something about being close to the angel was... soothing. Yet, at the same time, also like electricity or lava. It was powerful and frightening and Dean hated how helpless it made him feel. 

 

“Dean.” Cas growled, his deep voice vibrating through him. “We should go.”

 

Meanwhile, Karl continued to whisper softly to the lifeless body of his wife. “I’m so sorry. So, so, sorry.”

 

“Why?” Dean asked in an equally soft tone, his head tilting slightly towards Cas’ voice. His breath fogged in front of his face as the temperature in the room dropped rapidly.

 

Dean’s question was answered when he was thrown across the morgue by an invisible force. He slammed into the opposite wall with a loud thunk as the room fell into chaos. Medical instruments were tossed, tables flipped, cabinets opened and documents strewn about by an unseen cyclone.

 

Dean’s head was spinning, along with many items in the refrigerated morgue, and there was a faint ringing in his ears from his collision with a wall of freezers. He managed to right himself, a small trickle of blood dripping down his right temple, and prepared himself for a fight. Cas beat him to it.

 

The angel was immune to Karl’s power, and remained steely among the tornado of flying debris. A human would have been sliced and diced by the flying blades, but Cas was more than human. He had nothing to fear. Especially not from one sad little ghost. Dean kicked himself for not realising sooner.

 

Karl quickly decided that attacking the tall accountant in the trench coat was fruitless, and instead directed his barrage towards the prone Dean. Scalpels, rib cutters and drills all shot towards Dean. Castiel burned very little grace to redirect the ghosts attack. Dean watched tensely as the debris froze mid-air barely three inches from his face before it clattered to the ground at his feet.

 

“Stop this.” Castiel demanded in his ‘ _prepare to be smote’_ voice. It was deep and threatening and reminded Dean of simpler times when all they had to deal with was the Apocalypse.

 

“They have to pay!” Karl screamed, his dark hair and ripped clothes flapping as if being battered by a fierce wind.

 

“Who has to pay?” Dean asked, aware that Cas could flick this ghost from existence in a second. He found his feet and approached the flickering ghost warily. His hands were outstretched like he was comforting a small child or a lost animal. “We can help you. Who has to pay?”

 

“They both have to pay!” Karl cried one final time as he rushed towards Dean and Cas. With barely a flick of his wrist, Cas made the ghost vanish in a puff of black, ashy smoke.

 

Dean coughed and batted the ashy residue away from them. He was breathing heavily, his body pumped full of adrenaline, when his phone began to ring. He barely had a chance to say 'Yello' before Sam was talking hurriedly into the receiver.

 

“Karl Willow is dead.” Sam said, and Dean bit back a chuckle _. No shit, Sherlock_. 

 

“We’ll meet you at the Diner in ten.”


	4. Chapter 4

Dean and Cas made the ten minute drive back to the diner in five. Dean was just unfolding himself from the driver side of the Impala when he saw the person he was looking for hoofing it towards the car park.

 

“Lana! Hey, Lana!” Dean cried, waving and smiling at the young waitress as he jogged towards her white hatchback.

 

“Hello agent.” Lana offered with a slightly shaky smile. “I assume you heard about Karl? Just terrible.”

 

“Yeah, it’s a tragedy. I have a couple more questions for you, if that’s okay?” Dean asked. Behind him Cas and Sam were approaching at a casual walking pace.

 

“Absolutely.” Lana said as she fidgeted nervously with her car keys. “Fire away.”

 

“Okay. Where did you learn to pickpocket?” The girls usually pleasant mask vanished, leaving behind a film of resentment and impatience. “I mean, you are damn good at it. You should offer lessons.”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Lana said proudly, her chin raised in defiance.

 

“Sure you do. Look.” Dean said as he casually pulled his brothers wallet and watch out of the girl’s jacket pockets. Behind him, Sam began furiously patting his pockets and wrist in disbelief. “You pulled these off my partner at the diner this afternoon.”

 

Lana was silent, her face stony as she realised that she had been caught. “Really clever ruse, by the way. You knew it would come out in the investigation that somebody was stealing. So, you tried to frame one of the dead women for your crimes. They certainly couldn’t defend themselves. Ruthless, but smart.”

 

“Fine.” Lana said, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m a thief, but I’m not a killer. I saw my opportunity and I took it. Can you blame me?”

 

“Nope, but I can arrest you for reckless criminal activity unless you stop hindering this investigation.” Dean offered a truce which Lana could not refuse. She didn’t have to know that his threats were completely hollow. Dean almost admired the young thief.

 

“What do you need?”

 

“I want the details of every staff member at the diner. Any information you have on them, even the tiniest detail, could be useful. And I want a specific retelling of your encounter with Louise's ghost.”

 

Lana laughed uproariously at that. “You believed that? I didn’t see a ghost, I just made up some bull to confuse the cops before I ditched this hellhole of a town.”

 

Dean looked visibly disappointed. Maybe it was just incredibly bad luck that these people were dying. So far they had very little evidence to suggest that anything supernatural was happening in this town. One restless spirit which had been taken care of pretty effortlessly by Cas was not a lot to go off.

 

It didn’t happen often, but sometimes they showed up for a case looking for monsters and found only people and bad luck.

 

Dean shook his head, he had a gut feeling that someone was killing these people. Monster or not, it was his job to find out what had happened. 

 

“Fine, but I still want the staff details.” Dean said, a hint of anger entering his voice for the first time today.

 

“No doubt. Or, I could just tell you who killed them.”

 

“You know the identity of the killer?” Cas interrupted incredulously.

 

“Absolutely. Anyone with a brain could figure this one out.” Lana snickered, supremely amused that the experienced detectives were struggling with this simple open-and-shut case.

 

Dean was getting more frustrated by the second. This whole day had been a real blow to his ego. He just wanted this case to be finished. “Fine. Pray tell, who is the killer?”

 

“Harriet.”

 

“What?”

 

“Harriet, the owner’s wife. It’s so obvious.”

 

“I’m not getting it. Harriet is dead.” Sam said with a shrug.

 

Lana huffed in frustration. “Clearly none of you enjoy detective novels. Nothing is as it seems. What are the facts of the case?”

 

“This isn’t a game.” Dean grumbled.

 

“Sure it is.”

 

“Three people are dead.” Sam said.

 

“Well then, you’d better solve the case before it becomes a fourth.”

 

“Fine. The facts of the case. Louise and Harriet left work and died behind locked doors in their respective apartments from heart-attacks. This afternoon Karl also died. Same circumstances. Dropped dead of a heart attack behind locked doors. No sign of forced entry. All three victims were in good health and not at high-risk of cardiovascular problems.” Dean said through locked teeth.

 

“Correct. So, who killed them?” Lana asked. “And don’t say a ghost did it. That would just be sad.”

 

Sam and Dean shared a look of confusion. In their line of work if a ghost didn’t do it, then it was a demon or a shapeshifter or a witch or one of the thousand other monsters that they killed on a regular basis. To eliminate the strange or supernatural from their logic was not normal for them.

 

“Alright, here’s another clue. Karl and Louise were sleeping together.” Lana winked twice at the obvious hint. Her shoulders slumped after a moment when nobody leapt for the bait.

 

“And Harriet majored in chemistry at college.”

 

“Are you suggesting that they were drugged?” Sam offered. Lana nodded and then shook her head.

 

“Almost. They were poisoned.”

 

“Poisoned?”

 

“You boys are rather slow for FBI. Yes, they were poisoned.”

 

“But why would Harriet kill herself?”

 

“She didn’t.”

 

“What?” Sam and Dean asked in the same moment. Cas stood silently behind them, stoic as per usual.

 

Lana laughed at the comical expressions on the men’s faces.

 

“We saw her body in the morgue.” Cas said, and Dean had a flash of the two dead women on the sterile examination tables. Louise had been sliced and diced, but Harriet had been completely intact.

 

“I’m sure you did. I’m also sure that if you were to return to the morgue right now you would find an empty freezer and a missing coroner who suddenly had to go on vacation.” Lana looked supremely proud of herself.

 

“Karl did say ‘they have to pay’ during his rampage at the morgue. Perhaps he meant Harriet and the coroner?” Cas offered. Dean nodded while the waitress shot them both a very confused look.

 

“This has got to be the most elaborate murder that I’ve ever heard of.” Dean laughed, because what else could he do but laugh? “Would you mind explaining this to us from the beginning?”

 

“I’d love to…”


	5. Chapter 5

_Harriet was furious. Another fight. Another night sleeping alone. Another day working in that tacky diner. Another year without her dreams becoming realised. She didn’t ask for much, she just wanted to bring out the true potential of her husband. She knew he was capable of great things. He ran the All-Night, All-Right Diner like he was raising his own child – yet another thing which he had denied her. If he put his mind to it he could open a restaurant which would put their little town on the map._

 

_She was furious when she rolled over in the dark to reach for her phone. Maybe she could distract herself with some trashy internet gossip. She flicked on her phone, only to be startled when a message came though from Louise. Harriet frowned and moved to unlock the phone with her passcode._

 

_*bzzzzt* Incorrect Passcode._

 

_That was unusual. Harriet frowned, then realised that this wasn’t her phone. Karl must have taken hers by mistake when he had left the house after their argument. A sick feeling bloomed in Harriet’s gut as more message requests appeared on the screen from Louise. She couldn’t see the messages, only the sender. Suspicion bubbled up into her chest at the frequency of the messages. Then photo messages started coming through and any doubt that Harriet had vanished._

 

_Her husband was having an affair with one of his employees. She leapt from the bed and ran to the bathroom, barely making it to the bowl in time before she threw up._

 

***

 

“Okay, so Harriet finds out Karl is sleeping with Louise. How does this then evolve into a calculated plan to kill her husband and his mistress?” Sam asked, curious to get inside the mind of the murderer.

 

“You’d be surprised at the lengths women will go to when they have been wronged.” Lana said with a shrug, reinforcing the thought in Dean’s mind that women were crazy.

 

***

 

_Harriet was at the shopping mall when the idea came to her. She saw the goofy coroner James sorting through the oranges in the fruit section and it came to her in a flash of pure genius._

 

_“Hi James.” Harriet said, a genuine smile splitting her face. Her grin only grew when James dropped the oranges and he fumbled around on the floor to pick them up. He was adorable, and had been crushing on her since fifth grade._

 

***

 

“Whose idea was the poison?” Castiel asked, interrupting Lana’s detailed description of the series of events.

 

“Oh, that little gem belongs to Shakespeare.”

 

“Should we not be speaking directly with this Shakespeare?” Cas said, turning to Dean with genuine urgency.

 

“Ah, no buddy, I think we are a bit late for that one. She means Harriet got the idea from Shakespeare’s play – Romeo and Juliette.”

 

Sam snickered. “I didn’t think you read that sort of thing, Dean.”

 

“Shut up, Sammy.”

 

***

 

_“I love you so much, James. I don’t ever want us to be apart.” Harriet whispered into the skinny man’s pale chest. James pulled Harriet into a warm embrace which Harriet leaned into. Originally, he had been a means to an end. A tool to free herself from Karl’s overpowering control. Now… Things had changed. She loved him. She loved James and she was terrified of what he would do when she told him her plan._

 

_“James… There is something I have been thinking about for a while now. I want to know what you think…”_

 

***

 

“And he agreed to do it!?” Dean was growing more stunned by the moment.

 

“People will do impossible things for love.” Lana sighed sarcastically, her cynical side showing. Dean couldn't help but sneak a glance at Cas. He wondered what the angel thought of human emotion and if he was capable or experiencing it himself. 

 

***

 

_“Cheers.” Harriet laughed with her co-workers and husband as their mugs all clinked together. It was a tradition which had begun many years ago. After particularly difficult days, the critical staff and owners would get together and share company over a cup of herbal tea. Tonight would be no different to any other. But tomorrow… Well, not all of them would live to see tomorrow._

 

_Harriet watched with a sharp eye as Karl and Louise shared soft words and loving gazes over their death mugs. They weren’t fooling anyone, but that was alright. They would die painlessly and fast. It was better than they deserved._

 

_In the morning Harriet would be proclaimed dead, and then she would be taken into the safe haven of the morgue where her beloved James would be waiting with packed bags and cash which they had embezzled from the diner they both despised. Nobody would come looking for them. They would be forgotten and allowed to live their lives far away from this town full of only bad memories._

 

***

 

“The End.” Lana concluded with a dramatic flair of her arms.

 

“Not quite.” Sam said, grabbing his wallet and watch back from Dean before pulling out his mobile and dialling the morgue.

 

“You’ve been very helpful, Lana.” Dean offered with a crooked smile. “Even though you did try and steal from us earlier.”

 

“You were very perceptive. How did you know?” Lana asked, curious to know where she had gone wrong.

 

“I only noticed when I tried to steal Sam’s wallet to pay the bill.” Dean admitted sheepishly. “There was only one person who could have stolen it if it wasn’t me.”

 

“Nice.” Lana said with a chuckle and reached forward to shake Dean’s hand.

 

“Nah, I’m not falling for that one. Be good.” Dean said as Sam returned to their group.

 

“You were right, Lana. Harriet and James have both vanished. I’ll get onto the local cops and they can take care of things from there.” Sam said, offering the young woman a nod of thanks.

 

“Great, can I go now? I’d like to ditch this hole before the cops come after me, too.”

 

“Sure, once you return the jewellery you stole.” Dean added, and Lana’s winning smile turned into a pout.

 

“Was hoping you’d forgotten about that. Here.” She muttered as she dug into the boot of her white hatchback and pulled out the little box from the flour tin and passed it to Dean.

 

“Cheers.” Dean grinned. He had no intention of returning this loot. He was definitely going to pawn it a few towns over and add it to his Fun Fund. Sure, they hadn’t killed any monsters or caught any killers, but this case certainly hadn’t been a total waste of their time.


	6. Chapter 6

“Dean, there’s something I still don’t quite understand.” Cas said from the passenger side of the Impala. Sam had made himself comfortable in their motel room while Dean and Cas ventured out for takeaway Chinese food. It was late and none of them felt like driving four hours back to the bunker, especially now that they were up $2k from the pawned jewellery. They could have splashed out and paid for a fancy hotel room for the night, but Sam and Dean agreed that the money was best spent on beers and burgers.

 

“What’s that, Cas?” Dean asked as he drove into the motel carpark. The aroma of fresh, greasy Chinese food filled the Impala with deliciousness. 

 

“Why did you have to bring me with you on this case?” Cas asked. Dean pulled into the parking space and turned the keys, the familiar purr of his Baby's engine slowly revolving away to silence.

 

He thought carefully about his words before answering. “Cas, you are part of the team.”

 

Cas tilted his head in response, then opened his door to flee the Impala. “I wish I could have been more helpful.”

 

“Dude, you saved me from that pissed-off spirit back in the morgue.” Dean said, pulling back on Castiel’s trench to keep him seated.

 

“You could have handled it yourself.”

 

“Probably, but having you with me just makes it that much easier.” Dean said, his palm flattened against Castiel’s shoulder. “I’m glad you came with us.”

 

“I thought you brought me along because you pitied me.” Cas said angrily as he pulled himself free of Dean’s grip and flung himself from the Impala. Dean chased after him as he rushed towards their motel room. Finally he understood why Cas had been acting so cold all day. He caught up with the angel just as his hand had wrapped around the doorknob.

 

“Where is this coming from?” Dean hissed as he pulled on Castiel’s shoulder to turn him around, but only succeeded in pulling his trench and suit jacket off his right shoulder. If an angel didn’t want to be moved, then they didn’t have to move. Cas turned around of his own accord, his back straight in defiance as he faced Dean.

 

“From you, Dean. I heard your thoughts this morning when you came into my room. You pity me. You think me weak and vulnerable. Like a lost kitten I believe your exact thoughts were.” Cas growled.

 

“I thought we agreed that you would stop reading my thoughts.” Dean hissed in response. At some point his hands had fisted in Castiel’s shirt. He wasn’t sure if he planned on slamming the angel against the door or tugging him closer.

 

“I didn’t need to read your thoughts to know what you felt.” Cas said, shoving slightly at Dean’s chest. He knew he could toss the man across the carpark if he wanted to. The shove was more of a reminder to himself that the man before him was mortal. Dean was fragile and needed to be protected; even if it was from himself.

 

“Well, so far you’ve done a piss poor job of figuring out what I feel.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“I’m talking about-“ Dean interrupted both of their arguments by leaning forward and crashing his lips against the angels. There was a moment where Dean’s head span and he heard nothing but static. His brain didn’t catch up to the decision that his body had made until he felt Castiel become pliable beneath his hands.

 

_I’m kissing Cas. Shit._

 

His hands roamed from where they had fisted in Castiel’s shirt up to his shoulders then down to his narrow hips. When Cas fell limply back against their motel door, Dean went with him. The angel was pinned between hard wood and Dean’s taught body. Dean rolled his hips once… twice against Cas’s hardness and was rewarded with a surprised gasp which Cas could not contain. It felt good. It felt right. And then it felt hellishly embarrassing when Sam chose that moment to open the motel room door.

 

“Hey guys, the cops picked up Harriet and James on the highway out of… town.”

 

Cas had barely caught himself against the doorframe. If he hadn’t he and Dean would likely have tumbled through and landed in a messy heap at Sam’s feet. Instead, Cas’ back was firmly pressed into the doorframe, his arms wrapped possessively around Dean’s waist. He held him tightly against his chest as he met the surprised gaze of Sam Winchester.

 

“Ah.” Sam began, not really sure how he should react to his brother and the angel dry humping in the doorway of their motel room.

 

“Um.” Dean’s voice was a full octave lower than normal, and he really didn’t want to move to face his brother in his current… ahem, situation.

 

“Dean and I would like exclusive use of the motel room for the next five hours.” Castiel said straight-faced to Sam. Dean didn’t know whether to be aroused or scared.

 

“Ah. I’ll just go grab a room… as far away from here as possible.” Sam said, still in mild shock as he turned around, picked up his laptop bag, and left. But not without first shooting Dean a snarky look and mouthing ‘about time.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO MUCH for reading this far! 
> 
> I adore feedback so don't hesitate to tell me exactly what you thought. Really, don't hold back. ;)


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